Stacked Game
by flintyminty25
Summary: It's been three years since Kakashi joined ANBU. Now, a member of an unrivaled team, it seems there is nothing they can't achieve. But when they are faced with an opponent the likes of which they've never imagined, can the Will of Fire hold them together?
1. Chapter 1

Stacked Game

...

They were rumored to be the best.

A secret, closely-knit team of elites, hand-picked by the hokage himself-they were said to be Konoha's dark hand. There was no height they would not scale, no depth they would not plunge for the sake of the mission. Feared across the nations, their reputation spoke of unparalleled talent and unmatchable techniques that were as spectacular as they were unmentionable.

But everyone at headquarters just referred to them as bat-shit crazy.

And, as Yamato stiffly looped his arm around the slippery material of Genma's emerald-green cocktail dress, he couldn't help but agree.

"Hey, you don't think Hayate needs any help getting in, do you?" Yamato fretted, looking around the crowded dance-floor, "His fake id is just horrendous this time, I don't know what hq was think-"

"Ow!" Genma hissed, wincing as Yamato stepped absentmindedly on his foot.

"Sorry. I just can't understand what they were thinking," he continued, frowning to himself as they swayed in a slow circle, "I mean, he doesn't even have freckles!"

"Oh yeah, cause the fact that he lacks a wild mane of rippling red hair isn't a dead give-away." Genma dead-panned.

"Right. So, why-"

"God_dammit_!" Genma growled furiously, "Watch your wooden feet, Treebeard!"

"I'm _sorry_." Yamato stressed, matching his friend's exasperation to mask his hurt, "I'm just finding it a little difficult to navigate around your own wobbling appendages!"

"Oh! Because my appendages are supposed to inherently _know _how to traipse around gracefully in a pair of nine-inch heels." Genma snapped.

"If your appendages have recently gained sentience and you find their intellect somewhat lacking, that's not really my problem."

"It's gonna be your problem if you keep stepping-hey, there goes the captain." Genma interrupted himself, jerking his head towards the opposite side of the ballroom.

Yamato surreptitiously turned his head to see the familiar form of their squad captain make his way up a spiraling staircase heading for the second story.

Even dressed in a tuxedo, his tall, powerfully muscled figure exuded a palpable aura of danger. Yamato saw him lay a hand on the shoulder of a girl blocking his path and bow his head forward to whisper something in her ear, his long black hair spilling forward. The young woman jumped and quickly moved to the side, blushing. Her eyes and the wide eyes of her friends followed the man's ascent up the stairs and Yamato had to smirk.

As indistinct as his captain was trying to be, he couldn't fully disguise the ferocity that Yamato knew lay dormant inside. Even the civilians sensed it, as if the man's vicious nature oozed from his very pores.

"Gosh, we're moving fast tonight." Genma interrupted him from his musing, sounding mildly amused, "Does that mean Kakashi placed all the bugs already?"

"I dunno," Yamato frowned, casting a worried look around the enormous room, stepping on his partner's foot again as he did, "I haven't seen him since we got in. And Hayate was supposed to help him..."

He was suddenly jerked to a stop, tripping over his feet when Genma planted his own firmly on the floor. "What-"

"If you step on my foot one-more-time I _swear _I'm going to strangle you around the neck with these panty-hoes, saw you in half, cut out your ribcage-and _wear it_as a hat, you lumbering bag of shit!"

Several pairs of eyes looked their way.

"I..." Yamato reeled backwards, alarmed, "A _hat_?"

"A hat."

"Well," he seemed to recover, his brown eyes narrowing maliciously, "That would hardly match your dress, _sweet-heart_."

Genma's eyes widened and his heavily made-up face flushed red. He let out a tremendous roar, lunging for Yamato's neck with both white-gloved hands. A slew of startled squeals erupted from the dancing couples around them.

"I'm gonna-"

"Ah, Yamato, don't be such a spoilsport." A smooth voice cut in beside them, "I happen to think that a mutilated segment of your awkward body would go very well with Genma's slinky dress."

"Kakashi!" "Fuck you!" Yamato and Genma yelled at the same time.

"Hey, keep it down." Kakashi seemed to give them a reproachful look from his one opened eye, "I'm going to have to ask you not to talk that way in front of my date."

And then Yamato actually _looked _at Kakashi. He promptly stumbled backwards in alarm.

"Why are you covered in paint?"

Genma, who had been staring blankly at Kakashi, seemed to snap out of his trance. He hit Yamato smartly over the head.

"You dumbass! He's not wearing his mask and you comment on his taste in accessories?"

"Oh!" the wood-user jolted a little, his eyes widening as he took in his teammate's bared face, "Oh, god..."

And bare his face was indeed. Yamato goggled at his teammate and Kakashi grinned a little self-consciously.

Strange, he never would have thought that Kakashi had dimples...

At some point in the evening, Kakashi seemed to have swapped his original outfit for one of the plain, white uniforms that the catering service wore. It suited him nicely, although it seemed to have been tailored for a person three times smaller than himself.

However, this was hardly the most alarming feature of Kakashi's appearance. Yamato leaned closer to his friend and blinked shrewdly, trying to determine what exactly it was that had been splattered all over his friend. Wet splashes of red, blue, pink, and yellow were spattered all over him, coloring his hair, his skin, his clothes. Judging by the consistency, and the distinctive odor coming off his friend, Yamato suspected that an assortment of fruity alcoholic drinks had been tossed at Kakashi. Probably at the same time.

He was afraid to ask why.

"Shit man..." Genma breathed, his wide eyes returning to Kakashi's face with a somewhat glassy expression.

"Please." Kakashi finally said after a long moment of open speculation on their part. He cringed and closed his eyes in an expression of apparent distress, "This raunchy language is extremely offensive. If you continue to talk like that, my date and I-"

"-Oh my god." Genma cut him off, his face paling in slowly-budding horror as a new revelation occurred to him, "Is that, that isn't-"

"-a _child_!" Yamato finished for him, outraged, "Kakashi, you know you're not allowed to be near children for at least another three months!"

"Doesn't that seem a little harsh?" Kakashi winced, "That incident with the shrubbery was completely incidental. And besides, she's very mature for her age."

He tugged his dance-partner in a little twirl as if to prove to them that she was fully mobile as well. The little girl, who looked to be no older than three, giggled happily and stumbled after him, her blonde pig-tails bobbing.

"See, they don't know what they're talking about," the white-haired youth crooned, "do they, Blonde Chestnut?"

"Blonde..." Yamato shook his head, blinking away his confusion, "Nevermind that. We'll report you later-did you manage to plant all of the bugs?"

Kakashi straightened and fixed a steady, expressionless stare on the both of them, "Yes."

Genma suddenly collapsed against Yamato, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Ohhhh, great!" he moaned, "Now, what are we gonna do?"

It seemed to pass as an unspoken understanding between the three of them that Kakashi had just lied, although there was no obvious indication otherwise. It went unacknowledged. Yamato patted Genma's back awkwardly.

"Don't worry," an unexpectedly attractive smile broke over Kakashi's face, "I managed to cover all of the possible meeting rooms. We'll just need to keep tabs on a few suspect individuals the old fashioned way."

"Right, good." Genma straightened, instantly brightening, "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you. Have you seen Hayate anywhere?"

Yamato squinted at Genma, still feeling a little taken aback by his teammate's sudden lapse into feminine behavior.

"No, not that I can..." Kakashi started to answer him but trailed off, an expression of acute incredulity spreading over his face as he looked behind them, "Yes."

"What, he isn't-" and Yamato turned around, frowning as he peered through the crowd, trying to find what had his stoic teammate so shell-shocked. He felt his jaw drop open.

"That. That isn't-" he stammered.

"What the fuck!"

"Hey, don't..." Kakashi protested at Genma's language weakly, but was soon side-tracked, "Where'd he get that hat?"

Hayate sauntered by them in a pin-striped suit and matching fedora, flanked by a flashy entourage of beautiful women, all of them clinging to his arms and giggling coquettishly; a gruff, bulky-looking body-guard stalking menacingly on either side of him.

The three of them watched his progression in staggered silence. The little girl, who was confused at her dance-partner's lack of attention, stomped on his foot with a little grunt of frustration.

"Sup." was all the explanation Hayate gave them, as lifted his chin cooly in response to their disbelieving expressions.

They watched him, and his flock, make their way to one of the dimly lit booths lining the sides of the dance-floor. There was a long moment of silence between them as they stared after him.

"Bat-shit crazy..." Yamato mumbled weakly.

Kakashi smacked him in the back of the head.

...

* * *

><p>...<p>

_Gosh I'm really asking for it, aren't I-starting all of these stories when I still haven't finished my first one? ...Yup._

_Anyway, I was really in the mood to write, but my mood just didn't match up with any of my other stories so, yeah, this is what happened lol. Anyway, please don't be to alarmed, I actually have a plan for this one too! Whether it will stick to that plan though I am not so sure haha. But I'm happy as long as I'm writing so it should be okay :)_

_Thankyou for reading and feel free to review and let me know what's on your mind! I love to hear from you guys!_

_~Flinty_


	2. Chapter 2

**Stacked Game**

...

**One month earlier**

…

"This is the third time this week..." Yamato mumbled, his face cut into an expression of concern and confused acceptance.

Genma's shoulders sagged with an inaudible sigh beside him and the two of them glanced at each other, sharing a brief moment of discomfort. Hayate coughed into his shoulder, his arms stiff at his sides.

ANBU Black Ops Team Nine stood rigidly at attention within the dimly lit, cramped reception room. They watched uneasily as their remaining teammate stoically followed the broad back of ANBU's Chief Director into his small office. The door swung closed behind them with an ominous, resounding slam.

Now alone in the poorly furnished room, the white walls splotched a faded pee-yellow where they connected with the thin weathered-grey fuzz of the carpet, Yamato felt that their situation was impossibly dismal. He turned to his remaining two teammates.

"Why is he doing this?"

"No idea." was Genma's quick reply.

"No, I mean," Yamato released his arms from their clasped position behind his back, stepping forward agitatedly, "_why_ does he keep doing this? He knows he can't afford any more disciplinary punishment before it's on his permanent-"

"I don't think that matters to Kakashi." Hayate muttered quietly, looking down at his feet. Yamato paused, frowning.

"He's not going to stop until Gorou's gone." Hayate finally raised his gaze to look at them, his shadowed eyes grim, "You know that's what he's doing."

Genma moved his senbon from one side of his mouth to the other and there was a quiet noise of metal clacking against his teeth.

"Bastard."

Yamato sighed in reluctant agreement with the vague diagnosis, somehow understanding that the senbon-wielder was simultaneously referring to both their recently-assigned lunatic of a team captain as well as their stubborn dumbass of a teammate.

When Team Nine's original team captain had died in the middle of an unranked mission two months ago, it had been Kakashi who had taken charge and gotten them all home in one piece.

It had been Kakashi who had unflinchingly taken the blame from the higher-ups for their first incomplete mission.

And it had been Kakashi who had, with uncharacteristic vehemence, protested the loudest when their replacement- leader had turned out to be a dangerous, iron-fisted maniac whose penchant for beating others into submission had nearly led to their own deaths multiple times on and off the battlefield.

They had brought their complaints to every department in headquarters, and they had even applied for a grueling team inspection-but the officials, who sat safe and snug in their pinched, little offices, were convinced that there wasn't a problem.

As long as their team kept getting the same results, kept achieving the impossible, then how could there be anything wrong?

But Yamato knew that if someone were to just take a _glance_ at the bruises Hayate sported off-missions, if they would bother to notice how uncharacteristically sullen and silent Genma had become, how he himself was becoming increasingly inefficient under stress, or really think about how atypical Kakashi's recent bout of insubordination was-

They would see that clearly, inarguably-something _was_ wrong.

And now, Yamato chewed on his lip worriedly, when all their attempts at getting an intervention from their superiors had failed, Kakashi had seemingly taken matters into his own hands.

Konoha's brilliant tactical genius, who had been strategizing war movements since the age of eleven, had been reduced to using simple belligerence and back-talk.

Now, they all knew that the underlying goal behind Kakashi's alarming behavior was to force Gorou (they never referred to him as Captain) to leave on his own. But, so far the only results had been a noticeable increase in the level of torment he inflicted and the number of dangerous situations he thrust upon them.

Truth be told, they were all feeling a little resentful towards Kakashi at this point.

It almost seemed like they were the ones taking all the heat for his acting out-Gorou never really beat on Kakashi as much as he did Hayate, or criticized him like he did Yamato. And, unlike Genma, who Gorou seemed to derive a special pleasure in shoving dangerous situations upon-the only consequence for Kakashi's unruly behavior was the now-expected addition of yet another disciplinary punishment.

At first, Yamato and his teammates had been worried for the Hatake, suspecting that he was undergoing some archaic form of torture during these private, one-on-one meetings with Gorou.

Their fears had been quickly assuaged, however, when he had turned up for practice the next morning without any visible injuries to speak of. He never said anything about it, and they never felt the need to ask-suspecting that he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that, despite his outrageous behavior, he wasn't suffering nearly as much as they were.

And now, here they were, referred to the head of ANBU by their captain for insubordinate behavior. Could things get any worse?

A loud, furious crash, followed by a faint rattling of the thin, plaster walls separating the reception room from the office rent the air suddenly.

An artsy-fartsy picture, detailing the attractive silhouette of a muscular, confident shinobi, standing ruggedly before the backdrop of an enormous glowing moon, slid sideways on its nail.

It was at complete odds with the picture of the three young men in the reception room that startled to attention at the sudden outburst, their backs snapping rigidly and their heels clicking together with their haste.

There was a loud, muffled thump that sounded a lot like the Chief's big, meaty fist crashing to the polished wood of his desk in frustration.

Yamato could only imagine what his bland-faced, devil-tongued teammate had said to incite such anger from the ANBU's highest commanding officer.

"Well he's gone and done it now…" Genma grumbled darkly.

Things really couldn't get any worse.

…

* * *

><p>...<p>

"I will not tolerate having someone like that on my team." Kakashi said quietly, "His very presence is completely detrimental to the well-being of my teammates."

"We've been through this before, Hatake-san," Daichi, the Chief Director of Konoha's ANBU Black Ops gritted out, "I don't know _what_ your problem with Gorou-san is but-"

"-He exhibits several symptoms of psychological dysfunction, the most prominent of which being the fact that he seems to think it's a good idea to harm his ownteammates."

Daichi fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

"Honestly, I've met S-class criminals that contributed more to our missions than him."

Daichi ran a large hand over his face in a gesture of weary exasperation in a bid to hide the twinge of a grin that quirked his lips.

He'd always liked Kakashi. He'd found the young man's mind to be remarkably fascinating on the rare occasion that the boy had actually spoke to him.

And now, with Captain Gorou reporting the team to headquarters at least once a week, Daichi found himself getting an earful of the boy's quick wit on a regular basis.

It was simultaneously exhilarating and frustrating.

He had soon realized that debating with Kakashi was an exciting change of pace from the dull office routine he had fallen into after being promoted to Chief Director…

And not long after realizing this he had learned not to let the boy know that their weekly meetings had such an effect on him-Kakashi was, after all, there for a reason and, like a tiger tensed for the spring, he was all-too eager to take advantage of the situation and press his attack even harder.

And so their little discussions typically involved Kakashi drawing a stunted smile or chuckle out of Daichi, and then the gradual shortening of his frayed temper as the boy pushed his case with renewed vigor.

This often resulted in Daichi exploding in a fit of anger that, although his subordinates would disagree, he hadn't seen in himself since his days in the field. It was an exhausting cycle.

And so, as the Chief fixed his steady gaze upon the defiant light flickering in Kakashi's only eye not covered by his hitae-ate, and then the shattered remains of the desk-lamp he had thrown furiously at the wall earlier-he knew they had already been through the cycle twice today.

It was time to try a new approach.

"Kakashi, you need to understand…" he forcefully instilled a heavy layer of calm into his low voice, "Even if things are as you say-" he paused and raised a hand, sensing that the boy was about to interrupt him.

Kakashi's jaw tightened, but his dark eye flickered hopefully over Daichi's face.

"If he is doing all that you say he is, well, you don't really have any proof that Captain Gorou has done anything that is deserving of an expulsion."

Kakashi's brow furrowed immediately, an expression of distress lining his visible features.

"But, he's beaten Hayate to the point of-"

"-All of the team captains have been given the ability to discipline their subordinates using physical force if they feel it is necessary. And his verbal attacks towards your teammate, Yamato, are no different. Both of those accusations would fall flat if you were to bring this case to court."

"Gorou's assigned Genma specific tasks and then laid out traps for him during the course of several unranked missions that have seriously wounded-"

"And how exactly are we supposed to believe that?" Daichi shouted, his patience breaking, "Those injuries your friend sustained could have easily been a result of the enemy's traps and his own carelessness!"

Kakashi seemed to bite his lip under the thin material of his mask and he glared back at Daichi wordlessly through gray eyes that were bright and hard.

"What?" the Chief instinctively pounced at the opening, caught up in the thrill of the argument, "You don't have any proof that Gorou's actually done anything wrong, do you?"

Kakashi suddenly tore his gaze away, his crossed arms quivering as they tensed across his chest, and he stared, blinking hard, at the stapler on the corner of the desk between them.

Daichi's enthusiasm dropped sharply, surprise sweeping in and overflowing the hot stream of anger he'd felt just seconds earlier.

This wasn't what he had expected from the boy at all. Where was the engaging young man who had impressed him with his quick report and tireless stream of flawless logic?

He frowned, taking in the fact that the boy's gray eye was bright with moisture, that had been blinking back tears all this time that he had been yelling at him. Daichi reeled back in shock.

And then, before he knew what to think, it occurred to him.

"Kakashi," he began, his voice lowering without him meaning it to, "You've told me all about what Gorou's done to your teammates… but I can't help but notice that you haven't spoken a word about anything that he's done to you…"

Kakashi slowly raised his face to look up at him... and the conflicting war of emotions he saw battling within that glistening gray orb had Daichi's breath catching in his chest and any words he had planned on saying drying up in his throat.

When Kakashi spoke, his voice was small. A whisper.

"I do have proof."

...

* * *

><p>...<p>

_That wasn't what you expected, now was it? But don't worry, it's necessary for the plot and it will be tied in and make lovely sense! Or at least that's the plan heheh. Please read and enjoy :) and feel free to share the enjoyment by shooting a review my way and letting me know what you think. You're thoughts (and yes! I'm talking to you!) are always appreciated!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_~Flinty_


	3. Chapter 3

...

Stacked Game

...

...

"Shit! Piss-_Fuuuck_!"

Genma cursed and shoved the flat of his hand furiously against the grimy glass of the arcade-style claw machine, rocking it back against the brick wall and drawing a few concerned stares. Tenzou moaned despairingly behind him.

"You were so _close_," the wood-user whispered fervently, his hands clutching at the back of his friend's shoulder for support, "Did you see how it caught on the ear? And then it-"

"Goddamn lemur! He's just starin' at me with those big, shiny button eyes-I needta-"

"-He's hanging on the edge by his tail! His _tail_!" Tenzou wailed.

There was a sudden stretch of silence in which the two young men stared forlornly through the glass at the white and purple ring-tailed lemur lying half-in the chute, its black button eyes shining with a vapid, glassy sort of come-hither look.

Their faces sagged into twin expressions of ardent longing.

And then, in a lightning fast motion that caused a passing group of girls to scream and drop their drinks; Genma twisted around, fisted his hands in the front of Tenzou's shirt, and whipped him around to slam his friend backwards against the front of the claw machine, sending a flurry of rainbow-colored lights flashing frantically over the game.

"Gimme your money… ho." Genma glared hard at his friend's unimpressed stare, his lips quirking over the senbon in his mouth as he tried not to laugh.

"That's really not funny." Tenzou said, his expression less than amused, "Your terminology is simultaneously derogatory and offensive, and it makes me want to lynch you… Use your own money."

Genma's brown eyes immediately widened and an expression of deep hurt flitted over his face. He leaned in closer to his friend's face, causing the other boy to tilt his head away in unveiled disgust.

"You… you would lynch me?" Genma fluttered his eyes in exaggerated disbelief, pouting. He was now standing so close that his lashes brushed over Tenzou's cheek with each blink, "Even after all we've been through… all we've done together… all the times I've let you…"

"Ew." Tenzou shoved Genma off him, "Stop it."

Several young ladies, who had stopped to watch the curious spectacle, giggled amusedly.

The senbon-wielder stumbled backwards, careening excessively as he pretended to fight for balance. He landed with a dramatic crash on the flat of his back on a nearby table, knocking over drinks and causing several shouts of heated surprise. He slid down to the floor, looking wounded and aghast.

"But Tenzou," he sniffed, staring wide-eyed up at his horrified friend, "That's what I said last night and you didn't-"

"God!" Tenzou yelped, "Okay! Okay, take my money!"

Genma sprang back up so fast it looked as though an invisible pair of hands had jerked him to his feet. He sidled by his friend dismissively, pulling a dark brown bill-fold out of his back jeans pocket.

"Already did."

Tenzou's expression fell flat as he crossed his arms.

"Of course… Why else would it be entirely necessary for you to make such a show of begging me for my wallet?-you already have it. This makes perfect sense."

Genma paused in the middle of inserting one of Tenzou's gleaming coins into the faintly beeping machine, raising a brow at his friend over his shoulder.

"If I didn't know better, Tenzou, I'd say you sound disappointed."

The wood-user huffed and rolled his eyes slightly, turning away from his moocher of a friend.

"Of course I'm disappointed! That was my laundry money for this week. Now I'll just have to wear my dirty clothes all over again and-"

Genma leered darkly at him, a mischievous light glinting in his narrowed eyes, and opened his mouth to say something.

Tenzou cut him off, raising a hand.

"And if you even begin to tell me the alternatives to wearing dirty clothes, which I know you were about to, and try to embarrass me in public by acting like we have some illegitimate, dark, steamy relationship that no one else knows about despite the fact that you talk about it regularly in broad daylight with all the shame of an anosmic, wildly flatuating moose-I _will_ lynch you."

…

"Is that a promise?"

…

* * *

><p>...<p>

Kaede moved fluidly through the dimly lit hallway that threaded through one of the lower levels of ANBU Headquarters, stalking unflinchingly past a partially closed door from which strangled screams of agony echoed loudly.

The hanging light-fixture, encased in a steel net of rusted grilling, buzzed faintly as it flickered overhead, causing his shadow to jump spastically beneath him.

He moved silently through the sliding shadows; his sleek elbow-length hair, so black it blended seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, flowing smoothly out behind him in a thin slippery stream from where it was gathered at the back of his head in a casual ponytail.

Dull, rusty brown stone walls, painted over in a chipped and peeling off-white, slid by him as he moved confidently through the intricate maze of connecting hallways.

It had been a long time since he'd traveled these halls…

But, as Kaede trotted down an abrupt cluster of steps that were not nearly long enough to resemble even half a stairway, he found that navigating the elaborate hallways of ANBU's HQ was exactly as he remembered it to be.

Complicated, frustrating as hell, and reeking of cat-piss.

How the hell the lower-levels of one of Konoha's most high-security facilities managed to consistently reek of cat-piss was beyond him.

Was there some deranged, tightly-strung ANBU elite who secretly got his kicks from kidnapping the most feral, flea-bitten excuse for a feline out of one of the village's dumpsters, breaking into his own headquarters, and spraying the dusty, poorly-painted walls with cat urine until the whole building stank to high heaven?

God. Wasn't it bad enough that the architect who'd designed this building had apparently decided that the grueling month-long entrance exams every ANBU member had to go through before being inducted into the ranks wasn't a good enough measure of a soldier's competence-no, on top of that they had to trek through the biggest mind-fuck of a building every time they wanted to check in to headquarters.

He understood that in order for someone to be in ANBU they were expected to separate themselves from the normal spectrum of human emotion and all that-but he didn't think they had to go so far as to actually force them to sever their ties to the rest of their senses as well.

Last time he'd checked; the ability to smell wasn't actually detrimental to a shinobi and there wasn't any need for them to be systematically desensitized to it.

Kaede shook his head slightly to himself, feeling glad for the smooth cool porcelain ANBU mask covering his face… The mask-he mentally stuttered.

He could imagine that it… the mask… it… blocked the… smell.

…

_Her_ mask.

It was her mask that he wore now-the delicate face of a heron traced onto the cool plastic in sweeping curves of red, the thin lines flowing in feathered brushes across the expanse of flat, glaring white until they chipped and splintered along the cracks leading up to the jagged hole where the left eye-slit should be.

His own he held lightly at his side.

Kaede stumbled slightly, but managed to catch himself with a fist to the wall beside him. Automatically, he shoved himself forwards, quickly falling back into his graceful stride as if nothing had happened.

He'd known that deciding to come back wouldn't be easy… But he had promised himself that he would never let what happened to them happen to anyone else ever again.

Kaede clenched his jaw tightly behind the thin layer of hard-plastic and slipped into a jog, willing the dark emotions roiling inside of him to recede as he forced himself to continue on.

He had a role to play after all… And wasn't it required of a shinobi to never let their emotions interfere with getting the job done?

A low, humorless chuckled escaped him as he vaguely considered the irony of the daimyo's favored Shinobi Rule number Twenty-Five.

Kaede slipped silently through the narrow tunnel, moving steadily forwards in a dazed sort of focused, calm-the same way he'd felt ever since she died.

Lately, he had been feeling more and more like he was trapped on this path he had set up for himself. It was inescapable, the game he was fated to play. He wouldn't be able to rest, to finally stop fighting the emptiness panging inside and let it wash over him like a cool, all-encompassing balm-until he'd followed it through to the end.

He had to do this.

… But that didn't make it any easier.

Just walking through these familiar halls brought back an onslaught of memories that sent a wicked flurry of barely-contained anger curling and roiling wildly within the depths of his chest.

Sometimes, when he allowed himself to think about what it was he was doing and all he had planned to do, it all seemed to become impossibly heavy-and he was quick to stumble helplessly into that yawning chasm of despair that seemed to shadow him constantly, waiting for the chance to consume him.

But, in those blindly terrifying moments, all he had to do was think of her and he'd rediscover the will to keep moving forwards…

If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough he could almost smell her soft scent… as if some of her warm breath had been captured by the cold, unfeeling porcelain that covered his own face now.

That was all he had.

And all he needed to keep going.

_For her, for her I will._ It had become a twisted mantra of sorts, a pulse that throbbed through his being more deeply and more powerfully than even his own heart.

Finally, Kaede arrived at a small, nondescript wooden door that hung wearily on its hinges, the wood pitted and frayed as if some wild animal had raked its claws over it. He paused at the doorway, taking a moment to collect his frayed trails of thought and slip into the hard, unfeeling persona that had become second nature to him. That had always been expected of him.

But, before he could even move to open the door, the narrow wooden frame swung open creakily. Kaede stepped smoothly to the side and instinctively slunk back into the shadows, masking his chakra.

Immediately a large procession of veteran shinobi and kunoichi began to file out, some of them dressed in formal robes, others wearing their jounin or ANBU uniforms. Three of them walked past without noticing his presence, and then, with a sharp shudder of silent realization, a stooped old man in a dark cowl jerked to a halt. He stared up at Kaede's shadowed form pressed back against the damp stone wall with wide, startled eyes for a moment and then he ambled hurriedly down the hallway. The rest followed, casting surreptitious glances at the young man and muttering quietly to themselves, clearly ill at ease with his presence.

Kaede felt his lips curl into a slow, velvet smile behind his mask. Good.

Once the last of them had vanished behind the shunted twists and turns of the narrow passage, the hushed sound of their footfalls little more than hanging echoes in the stale air, a somber, aged voice spoke slowly to him from the open doorway.

"Come in, come in… Or don't you know that it's rude to wait outside doorways?"

Kaede chuckled lightly under his breath at the familiar invitation, shaking his head, but he stepped away from the wall and strode into the room anyways.

"I was just waiting for an invitation." He recited lowly.

Inside, sitting at the far side of a long mahogany table, her wrinkled hands folded serenely before her, an elderly woman sat, peering up at him knowingly through finger-smudged glasses. Her puckered mouth curled in an expression somewhere between a grimace and a grin at the sight of him.

Kaede felt a twinge of a grin pulling at the side of his face as well. It stumbled and fell flat beneath the covering of his mask.

She looked the same as ever, her frizzled gray hair knotted at the top of her head and her hunched shoulders covered with a stiff white overcoat. Looking at her aged visage made it seem as if none of this had ever happened and he was just visiting an old family friend again before heading out on another mission.

"Kaede…" her voice shook slightly, and her foggy eyes were heated with an expression that looked distinctly grieved.

"Hana-sama." He bowed his head, letting her steady, somber gaze flicker over him in a moment of silent consideration. Years ago this gaze would have had him fidgeting in his sandals, her soul-piercing eyes prickling in their perceptivity.

Now he stood before her dully in the knowledge that nothing resided within him anymore for her to see. He was hollow and still, alive only in the sense that he had not yet finished all that had been set out for him.

"I didn't know if I would be seeing you again after…" her voice trailed off, as if she were afraid to even mention the mission that had forced him from the country for the last two years… Or maybe it was that she had finally noticed the modification to his wardrobe-her wrinkled jaw fell open as she took in the familiar heron mask that he now wore in place of his own, her dim eyes tracing over the enormous hole and the surrounding spiderweb of cracks where the left eye should be in thinly-veiled horror and disgust.

"I've come to ask you a favor."

She said nothing, but a series of trembling quivers started to shake through her and she closed her eyes fervently and bowed forwards, shaking her head in silent agony as the full gravity of what he'd done started to hit her.

"Oh, Kaede…" she whispered, her wizened hands coming up to clutch at the sides of her head as her hunched shoulders shook with silent sobs, "Kaede..."

"I remember that you have a direct line of communication with the daimyo," he spoke softly, unmoving in the face of her raw emotion, "I would like to request that you relay a copy of my mission report to him. He will be pleased to know that the personalized mission he appointed me has been completed successfully and that, as his loyal shinobi, I am _always_ at his disposal. Be sure to let him know that I regret not being able to hand the report in myself, but I have been summoned to the ANBU Chief Director's office for a matter of utmost urgency. It seems that I've already been assigned a new team, and-"

"Stop this!" Her voice cracked, and he stared cooly down at her as she lifted her tear-stained face to look up at him incomprehensibly, "I can't listen to you speak this way. Saori would never have wanted you to become this. She-"

"Saori didn't want a lot of things!" He snapped, a sharp layer of steely anger coloring his deep voice, "She's dead and I'm not, I completed the mission, and that's how it is. I've done my job and now I need you to do yours. What she wanted is no longer part of the equation."

She seemed to quail before his heated tone, a fresh slew of tears running down her wrinkled cheeks.

He was breaking her heart.

"That's how it is…" he breathed heavily, feeling himself grow calm again in the face of his old friend's pain, "I'm sorry…"

He paused, setting the flat plate of his old mask onto the table before her softly. The bright face of a monkey grinned mockingly up at them under the hazy yellow lights. Kaede felt a roll of disgust churn in his stomach at the sight.

"I'm sorry." He said again.

And he was. He didn't want to be causing an old, family friend-one who had stuck by him and mothered him since he'd been orphaned at the tender age of nine and been a strong pillar of support through the rest of his life-he didn't want to be hurting her.

But she was hurting for him, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Kaede turned his head away slightly, giving her some time to compose herself.

But she just continued to weep, clutching at her head as if she had experienced the tragedy that had befallen him and his beautiful young lover herself.

Several long, heavy moments passed and Kaede finally turned away, realizing that there was nothing left for him to say. He strode slowly past the long table, feeling a small spark of regret for treating her like this.

But mostly he just felt unreachably hollow and cold.

Her voice stopped him just as he reached the doorway, sounding weak and hushed in the pressing silence growing between them.

"If you truly believed that… If what Sorai wanted really didn't matter to you anymore… You wouldn't be wearing her broken mask, Kaede."

He paused for a moment, not turning around, and waited for the hurt that was supposed to come with her keen observation. He felt her eyes on his back intently.

But it never touched home. Her perceptive words floated towards him-only to fall, sinking and fading steamily into the thick layer of hazy numbness that had wrapped around his heart like a shroud.

Kaede stepped out the door and walked unflinchingly into the darkness.

…

* * *

><p>...<p>

The setting sun glowed a soft, buttery gold as it smeared over the treetops, painting the lightly wafting autumn leaves in gleaming shades of undulating russet and caramel. Kakashi squinted his eyes, breathing in the sweet, crisp aroma of fall, and curled his half-gloved fingers tighter around the rusty chains of the swing.

When he sat quietly like this, watching the gentle shifting of scenery around him, everything seemed perfect.

He sighed and tilted his head down to watch as he bent and un-bent his knees idly, pushing himself back and forth on the small child's swing in a rare moment of unguarded indulgence.

Everything _was_ perfect-Gorou had been officially expelled from the team, they had a three week grace period before they were expected to return to duty, and their new team captain was supposed to meet them all at a local civilian bar tonight.

But, Kakashi couldn't help but wonder, as he shifted lightly on the hard surface of the swing, if everything was starting to turn around and finally going like he'd planned- _why_ did he feel like this?

A sudden breeze, sharp and stinging in its dusky chill, wafted through him, sending a slew of goose-bumps shivering over his skin under his clothes. Kakashi ducked his head and raised his slender shoulders against the sweeping cold, his knees knocking together as he curled in on himself. A distant pattering of scattered raindrops brushed over the part of dusty dirt-road left uncovered by the large shade tree he sat under.

It was quickly becoming dark; he should really get going… He was supposed to meet up with them at least twenty minutes ago.

But, as the young man leaned his masked cheek against the chain grasped in his left hand and stared absently down at the pale toes peeking out from his sandals, his long, unkempt bangs blowing over his eyes softly in the cool, fall breeze-he found that he didn't want to leave this spot.

Out here everything was slow and peaceful. The world seemed to turn gently through the changes of weather and time, separate from the worries and troubles of the people who inhabited it.

Out here Kakashi could imagine that, like the twisting vines of ivy crawling steadily up the weathered bark of an old, gnarled tree, he was separate from everything and everyone around him-moving through existence at a soothing, glacial pace that sheltered him against the slew of anxieties and problems that plagued the rest of the world.

"Please…" he found himself breathing out in a hoarse, shaky whisper.

Kakashi closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, nuzzling into the icy metal of the swing chain pressing against the thin skin of his forehead. He didn't even know what it was he was asking for exactly.

Was he begging the powers that be for a chance to go back and erase the last two months of his life? A chance to continue living out the remainder of his existence along a different timeline-one that branched off from that fateful moment in the past where Gorou had first been introduced to his team?

Or maybe he was just reciting the same old mantra that he had been silently, half-consciously repeating over-and-over again for the last ten years of his life-a quiet, helpless yearning that he hated himself for feeling but was never strong enough to fully dispel-that silent begging for someone, anyone, to be there for him in a way that he'd hungered for ceaselessly over the course of his life.

Was it too much to ask that someone be there for him as he had been for countless others?

Kakashi chuckled humorlessly to himself, grinning wryly beneath his mask. Who was he kidding?

He was Hatake Kakashi, prodigy child who had raised himself since the age of five when his father had begun the slow descent into depression, if there was anyone who could go through life's troubles alone it would be him. He'd been alone, singled out, in some way for as long as he could remember…

And besides, even if it wasn't too much to ask of someone-he wouldn't know how to even try.

Kakashi, his eyes still closed, breathed deeply, trying to force down the heavy lump that had started to form in the back of his throat.

_It doesn't matter, _he told himself, _It doesn't matter anymore._

But, even as he thought it, some deeply buried, timid little part of himself couldn't help but wish that there was someone out there to tell them that it did, that what he'd gone through did matter-because _he_ mattered.

"Stupid…" the young shinobi mumbled quietly, reaching down to pick up the hitae-ate strewn limply across his lap and tie it back over his hanging head, "I'm just being dumb."

The wind gusted more fervently, bringing with it a fine gentle spray of drizzling mist, and Kakashi rose from his seat carefully in the descending darkness. Hands in his pockets, he started the weary trek to the civilian sector, trying on a few happy expressions feebly beneath the safety of his mask.

He had some good news to break.

…

* * *

><p>...<p>

_Building and building... I can't wait till the next chapter :) Now I've got all my major players brought in._

_Hopefully none of you find this too confusing, just mildly suspenseful and curious. At least, that's the feeling I was going for haha-I realize I've thrust a lot upon you dear reader without explaining anything fully! But, that's cause I secretly (not so secretly) wanted to bait you into wanting to read more! So manipulative..._

_Anyway, once again, I realize that I have some things I need to state here._

1. Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, not to me. I hereby waive any rights of ownership over to him, except for a few of my own characters which I've sort of sprinkled in throughout the story... Yeah :P

2. It has come to my attention that I've made a mistake the last two chapters by referring to Tenzou as Yamato. Thank you to my dear friend 3DY3Namite for pointing it out! Truly a wonderful help in the editing of my stories, I am ever grateful for her constructive criticism and immeasurably kind praise. (Speaking of praise-can I just say that I have someone how managed to rope myself a handful of supremely sweet and genuinely kind reviewers! Seriously, you guys are amazing-I write for my own perverse enjoyment but you all have made it just that much better)

3. **IMPORTANT NOTE**: _Read This!_ I think it's necessary for me to inform anyone who wishes to continue reading this story that there may or may not be sections in the chapters to come that are disturbing to read. There will be mentions, if not short descriptions, of the abuse of a minor. Please, if you are not open to reading about someone dealing with the aftereffects of _any_ kind of abuse-STOP READING.

Honestly though, I really don't plan on going into detail with it. I don't feel comfortable reading anything explicit, so I sure don't plan on writing anything like that either. The main purpose of including this in my story is because it is plot-related and will give the story another layer of emotional depth that I feel is necessary to the overall completion of the story. So, even though I want you to be aware of what might be coming, please don't think that I will be delving too deeply into it beyond an emotional viewpoint.

4. Updates will be less frequent, but they will happen! This is not a reflection of my dwindling interest-far from it! But more an unfortunate result of the gratuitous piles of work now being thrust upon me. Bear with me and I'm sure we'll both see it out on the other side :)

5. As some of you know, the whole reason that I started working on these separate stories was to refuel my interest in writing, and in doing so, jumpstart my interest in Nostalgia. I think that all of you should know... it's working! I've written about half of the next chapter and I'm making slow but steady progress in it. It may not be the next story I update, but I feel the need to inform you-It IS coming! Hurrah!

_Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read all this! And your reviews are always appreciated :)_

_Thanks!_

_~Flinty_


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